GodWithWings
patreon
Ch 56 - A Fruit Offered by the Snake
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 18:37:05 +0000 UTCA/N -
I finally had my break and regained some energy.
Expect 2 new chapters instead of 1 on Tuesday
Enjoy <3
**
The Yellow Tribe was nestled near the shores of a wide lake, its settlement cradled by the surrounding mountains on one side. Unlike the other tribes scattered through the forest, which relied heavily on hunting and trading goods for food, this one had clearly embraced a more settled life. They had fields once vibrant with crops, now buried beneath thick layers of snow, the white blanket hiding the earth they had worked so meticulously.
Their homes were also crafted from lumber, but the design far outclassed the simple huts of my own tribe. The structures were larger, divided into multiple rooms, raised off the ground by sturdy wooden pillars to guard against moisture creeping up from the dark soil. Their rooftops were covered in a pale yellow grasslike plant - at first glance it resembled hay, but I quickly realized it was something else entirely, a native species likely chosen for its insulating properties. And the fact that every roof was free of snow spoke volumes about their hardworking nature.
The village layout itself spoke of organization and discipline. Multiple storage buildings stood beside a large common kitchen, and a long communal hall served as their gathering place for meals and assemblies. There was even a dedicated barracks, where weapons were stored collectively, as this tribe, like my own before me, followed the traditional rule forbidding carrying weapons within the settlement itself.
The small party that had visited my tribe returned not long ago and, as expected, had been placed under quarantine. But not all of them were treated equally. Ugriel had been separated from the others and kept in isolation, while the rest remained confined together. Now, with their quarantine finished, they were free to walk the village again. All except Ugriel.
“How long are we going to keep Ugriel in there?” the leader of the party asked, the markings on his face being transparent, carrying no color at all. He was leaning forward as he washed his broad hands in a wooden basin filled with freezing water. His fingers, red from exposure, trembled from the frigid water.
“At least another week,” the second man answered flatly. He was easy to spot even among the Yellow Tribe - tall, pale, unnaturally lean, his closely cropped red hair made his sharp features even more striking, giving him a vaguely demonic appearance. Around his neck hung a string of jagged bones, clacking softly with every movement. “What did he say, Deriel? Who did he meet?”
“He said he met Mirion,” Deriel replied, straightening and drying his hands on a stiff towel. The cloth had almost frozen in the cold, and as he rubbed it against his skin, it crunched like brittle leather snapping beneath pressure. “But I wasn’t there.”
“You weren’t there…” The bone necklace clacked again as the man tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, like he had heard something unbelieevable. “Teryo didn’t meet with him. Why, I wonder…”
Deriel said nothing. He simply looked up at him.
The tension between them was faint but present. Not outright hostility, but something rigid, like two men walking carefully around each other. Exactly what I was hoping to find.
The Yellow Tribe offered no easy openings. There was no Goddess’ statue I could destroy, no immediate problems I could solve with the miracle. They weren’t desperate. They were stable and self-sufficient.
Which meant my approach would have to change.
I could either spend my precious Divinity Points and perform a grand display, something that would force most of them to kneel. Or… I could move quietly, slipping into the cracks already forming beneath their polished surface.
Breaking the castle was always easiest from within. If I could bring someone with influence over to my side, they would slowly begin to shift the entire tribe.
The first obvious choice was the Velmoryn wearing the bone necklace. His appearance resembled that of a shaman or mage, and considering that Dariel had to ask him how long Ugriel would remain in quarantine, it was clear he held considerable influence. But the way he carried himself… there was something off about him. Too oily, too calculating. Not someone I would trust to spread my name.
If only I could use Guidance on intelligent species who aren’t my believers…
The detailed status windows I could access for my own faithful were reserved solely for those who had pledged themselves to me. I had already tested Guidance on non-believing Velmoryns, but the results were always the same: vague, useless information, telling me what species they belonged to, and each attempt cost me one Divinity Point.
I hope Guidance will grow stronger as my rank increases.
My gaze shifted toward Dariel. I had already spent days observing the Yellow Tribe out of the corner of my attention while most of my focus remained on my own tribe and the hunting party. But by now, I had a fair grasp of how the Yellow Tribe operated. At first, it was confusing. Unlike my tribe, they didn’t have a Vael - no single leader standing above the rest. Instead, they followed a council structure. The bone-necklace Velmoryn was one of three council members, which at first I thought was nothing but a ceremonial position. Dariel, however, held no such seat. Instead, he led his own warrior unit - twenty-three trained Velmoryns under his command. So even without a council seat, that made him significant.
And most importantly, he was unhappy.
Despite his solid build, Dariel was no front-line melee fighter. His class leaned toward something druidic, and I suspected that his magic significantly affected his mind. His distaste for violence ran deeper than simple preference. He longed for unity, for peace among the Velmoryn tribes. And if I could offer him that - one tribe, one nation, under one god, he might very well listen.
“Joriel, has my portion of the meat already been delivered?” Dariel asked as the Velmoryn with the necklace prepared to leave.
“No. You may pick it up from the storage.” Joriel answered without turning back.
Dariel shook his head slightly, a silent gesture of discontent as Joriel walked away, heading toward the large building marked with yellow-painted runes. After a moment, Dariel also turned, walking off in the opposite direction.
…
“Father, you are late!” the child’s bright voice rang out as she hopped into Dariel’s lap, her face lighter than the usual gray tones of their people.
“Father was with other grownups,” Dariel replied with a soft smile, pinching her cheeks gently as she pouted. “And we discussed when we should bring the new Velmoryns.”
“Why do we even keep kidnapping the children?” came a sharper voice from deeper inside the storage room. A female Velmoryn, her face obscured beneath a dark veil, appeared from behind the stacks of supplies she had been organizing.
“Freya,” Dariel answered calmly, though his eyes betrayed the bitterness behind his words. “You know we have no choice. If we don't take them, the other tribes will.”
“There is always a choice!” Freya snapped, stepping forward, her voice quivering with suppressed frustration. “We could have stood beside them. Fought against the other tribes together and ended this meaningless war between Velmoryns! If only your father were still alive…” But she stopped herself mid-sentence.
The air thickened with silence. Only the soft clicking of Dariel’s boots echoed through the room as he bounced his daughter lightly on his knees, trying to keep the child amused despite the sudden tension.
“I didn’t mean it that way…” Freya’s voice softened as she approached him, placing her hands around his thick neck and leaning down to kiss his sweat-dampened cheek.
“You said nothing wrong,” Dariel whispered, placing one of his enormous hands over her smaller ones, cradling them gently. “They blamed father for our decline… and decided the tribe should be ruled by a council.”
“Father, is council bad?” the little girl asked innocently.
Dariel simply kissed her forehead without answering. Then, playfully, he tugged at her cheeks until her eyes welled up, though she still giggled, the pain forgotten in her excitement at playing with her father.
But Freya’s voice grew unsteady as she circled around him, standing directly in front now. “Dariel… what if there was a way to reclaim the tribe? To end this meaningless war between the Velmoryns once and for all?”
“That would be ideal,” he said, his voice quieter, eyes narrowing slightly, “but no such power exists. None of the tribes is strong enough to unite…” His words trailed off mid-thought as the veil covering Freya’s face slipped free, falling softly to the ground, revealing the crimson markings glowing faintly on her skin.
“Freya… what did you do?”
The playful rhythm of his legs stopped, his daughter sliding down onto the floor as his hands slowly lowered. Freya dropped to her knees, gripping his large hands with trembling fingers, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
“He showed me the future,” she whispered, burying her face against his palms as Dariel kept gently wiping her face.
“Freya… the gods… they never cared for us. You know this.”
“My love, please.” She looked up, voice cracking. “See it for yourself.”
From beneath her robe, she carefully pulled out a small crimson fruit, round, smooth, and glistening faintly like a polished gemstone. She held it out before him with both hands, offering it as though cradling something sacred.
“It will show you His vision,” she said through quiet sobs. “I’ve seen it already. And then… you may decide for yourself.”
The moment I learned that Dariel’s father had been the last Vael of the Yellow Tribe and that Dariel himself was meant to inherit the position, my choice became obvious.
Dariel was compassionate, far more than most. He cared deeply for his people. He longed for peace, not only for his tribe but for all Velmoryns. To end the endless cycle of abductions, rivalries, and silent wars. He wanted unity - a single tribe, standing together. He was everything I needed. And on top of it all, he loved his family more than anything.
Freya, who openly questioned the Council and voiced her anger at the way their tribe treated mine, carried resentment that ran deep. Deeper than I expected. She was one of the stolen children, taken long ago as part of the peace offering, ripped from her home and raised among strangers. That seed of bitterness had rooted itself inside her long before I ever appeared.
In truth, much of what I did now felt as though it had been prepared for me by the very fabric of these circumstances. The cracks had already formed long before my arrival, I merely followed their natural fault lines.
A few days ago, when Freya was out fetching water from the nearby pond, I seized my opportunity. Using my divine power, I made a plant to grow - a single crimson stalk that bore fruit gleaming faintly with my divine energy and looking so delicious even I felt a pull. It contained the vision. I could not bestow such revelations directly to non believers. Perhaps the way more powerful gods could, but not me. I could only craft the illusion in that way, but a mere illusion wouldn't be enough. However, if she consumed the fruit containing my divine power by her own will, the connection would be enough for me to work through her consciousness.
She hesitated a little, but resisting divine energy was difficult for mortals. The moment her lips touched the fruit and she took a bite, her knees hit the ground. And when she regained herself, the markings on her face had already shifted. She then prayed, asking me to show the vision to her husband as well.
So I crafted another fruit. This time, with a vision tailored to Dariel.
He sat now in his chair, the crimson fruit resting in his hands, shimmering faintly as my power pulsed beneath its smooth skin. He hesitated, glancing once at Freya, who stood before him, eyes wide, silently pleading. With a quiet sigh, he brought the fruit to his lips and consumed it in swift bites.
By the time the fruit was gone, the vision had only just begun to slip into his mind.
His body slumped backward into the chair, his head tilting, eyes empty as the scene forged by me unfolded within him.
First, I showed him my tribe as it existed now - the reconstruction, the towering crimson wall of roots encircling the settlement like a living fortress... I revealed everything except for the hunting party. There was no need for him to see the full strength of my people, not until I could trust him.
Then the vision shifted, pulling him into one of Tekla’s rites. The Priestess stood before a crowd of faithful Velmoryns as the swirling crimson oak leaves danced around her, carried gently by unseen winds. The Guardian’s roots pulsed beneath them, responding to her commands with reverent grace. Velmoryns watched with awe, their faces alight with hope and devotion as she recited the Ten Commandments.
Next, I revealed to him the illusion I had shown Ugriel when he visited my tribe, exposing how easily I had deceived them and that in reality no one was sick. There was no longer any need to conceal it. The winter would prevent any offensive against my tribe even if he tried. This knowledge was now safe to give.
And then, I showed him what could be.
The vision swelled into a grand, unified Velmoryn nation. Towering settlements, thousands of Velmoryns living peacefully beneath the watchful branches of the Crimson Guardian. I showed him the army I planned to raise, disciplined, loyal, powerful, and yet, even amidst the military might, the village thrived in peace.
Freya stood alongside Tekla, smiling, speaking softly like old friends. Their daughter ran among a group of children, laughing beneath the safe canopy of the great tree. It was the life Dariel had always dreamed of.
Finally, the vision narrowed as Tekla approached him directly. She extended her hand, her expression gentle, her voice warm and welcoming as she spoke:
“Embrace High Father, and help us unite the Velmoryns…”
Comments
MilkTheShark
"And the fact that every roof was free of snow spoke volumes about their hardworking nature" This seems to me to actually imply that the grass isn't a good insulator because all the heat is getting out the top to melt the snow. Food for thought.
Clown Quest
Tftc
